Coming Home
by rabidcrazygirl
Summary: Post Aliens, Hodgela fluff.


**Hello, everyone! Ever since seeing "Aliens in a Spaceship," I knew that I had to write about it, but I just didn't know how exactly. So, after many, many minutes of intensive thought, I came up with this bit of fluff. Totally Hodgela, totally sappy. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.**

_He felt as though he was swimming through molasses. The little light that the car's overhead light provided was fading—or was it just his eyesight? His eyes flicked across the seat to the woman sitting beside him--Dr. Temperance Brennan's head was leaning back against the back of the car's seat, her eyes closed. He didn't think that she was breathing._

_He felt inside the pocket of his coat for the sheet of paper that he had scribbled a few words on a couple of hours before. His heart began to speed up as he realized that it wasn't there. He tried to open his eyes wider, to fight off the darkness that was closing in around him as his hands scrambled across the seat, searching for the paper, trying to see if it had fallen out. His breathing grew more labored even as panic swamped him. The letter was gone. It had vanished. And he was about to die without her knowing how he felt._

Dr. Jack Hodgins' eyes flew open and he stared upwards into the darkness of an unfamiliar room. For a moment his chest tightened and he thought that he was still in the backseat of that nightmarish car, buried underground with no light and no air and no chance of escape. But then he remembered; he was in the apartment of Angela Montenegro, his colleague, friend and…something more?

He wasn't sure about that last one. Sure, she'd kissed him when he'd first been pulled to the surface, but it had been a kiss of welcome and of relief. He'd half-expected _Zack_ to kiss him as he lay, gasping in the cool Virginia air and marveling at the feeling of sunlight on his face. But no, it had been Angela. And they hadn't spoken about that kiss ever since.

They hadn't mentioned it as he'd been wheeled into the hospital. They hadn't spoken about it as she sat by his bed, holding his hand while doctors did unspeakably painful things to his legs. They hadn't spoken about it as she fell asleep in the chair next to his hospital bed and he'd grabbed the nearby crutches and hobbled out of there as fast and as silently as he could have.

They hadn't mentioned that kiss when she found him again and had (marvel upon marvels!) invited him back to her place. They hadn't mentioned it as she'd helped him out of her car and supported him as he tottered up the walk to the apartment complex with a bag full of clothes in one hand and the other arm wrapped around her shoulders. And they hadn't mentioned it as they'd determined that he was going to sleep in her bedroom and she was going to set herself up on the couch.

_Baby,_ thought Hodgins to the absent artist,_ I'm not sure how much more I can take of this silence._

The gloom provided him with no answers. He sighed and, turning onto his side, ran a hand over his face.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to see a shadowy figure standing in the doorway. With a startled yelp, Hodgins sat up, pulling the blankets up to his chin in an ashamedly childlike move.

"Relax, Jack," said the shadowy figure, switching on the light to reveal tousled brown hair, almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones—Angela Montenegro. "It's just me."

Hodgins' muscles loosened and he dropped the blankets down. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was sleeping without a T-shirt on.

"I heard you talking in your sleep," Angela continued, trying to ignore the shirtlessness of the man sitting in front of her. "I figured that you might be having a bad dream so I decided to come and wake you." She shrugged. "I guess you didn't need help with that part."

"No," said Hodgins. He was surprised to hear how hoarse his voice was. "But thanks anyway."

"Yeah…" Angela trailed off. "D'you…D'you want to talk about it at all?"

Hodgins shook his head tersely. "No thanks, baby," he said, wincing as the familiar term slipped between his lips. "I kind of just want to forget it."

"Alright…" Angela said. "Well…'night, then."

"Goodnight," Hodgins said. Angela nodded and, flicking off the light switch, left the room. Only a few seconds had passed when she was back again, silhouetted in the doorway by the light of the three-quarters moon outside the window. As she turned the light back on, Hodgins raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Jack…" she said. "You were talking about a note. What note?"

Hodgins found himself cursing his subconscious for driving him to say stupid things in his sleep. _You wanted to tell her,_ his subconscious retorted. _Now's the time. Go for it—before you lose her for good._

Drawing a deep breath, Hodgins reached across the bed for his bag. A few moments of rummaging in one of the pockets yielded a piece of paper—the title page to Brennan's book—with a few words scribbled on it.

"I, uh…" he stammered, unsure of how to preface what he was about to show her. "I wrote this…to you…right before Brennan filleted me with her pocket knife." He was slightly pleased to see the artist wince. "I didn't think that I'd be getting out of there alive so…I just figured that if I didn't have the guts to get things out in the open with you while I was still breathing, then the least that I could do was tell you once I stopped." He handed the note over to Angela, trying to disguise how much his hand was trembling.

She took it and opened it, eyes flicking from line to line as she read:

_Angela—_

_If you get this, I'm probably dead. I don't really have much time for letter-writing—you see, Brennan's about to slice open my legs with a knife and the shock alone could send me unconscious and then kill me, but I just figured that it would be fair to me or to you to die without telling you how I feel about you._

_Baby, I'm absolutely crazy about you. And everything you do just makes me love you more and more. And if I die, my single greatest regret would be that I never had the courage to tell you about how I feel._

_All my love_

_Jack_

Angela slowly raised her eyes to look at Hodgins, who was studying his blanket with such intensity that she expected that he would have the pattern memorized. All words fled her mind—the woman with the never-ending imagination, who always had something to say was left speechless.

"It's melodramatic, I know," Hodgins said without looking up. "Really sappy stuff. But I was kind of in a melodramatic mood just then. What with the imminent death and all." He glanced up, saw her staring at him, then looked back down, a blush staining his cheeks. "I'll go," he said, reaching across the bed a second time, this time to fumble for his crutches. "You really don't need to—I'll see you at work—I never should have shown you that note."

He was stopped by a gentle hand on his arm. "Jack," Angela said. "Come on. Look at me." He turned to face her, his eyes holding a mixture of fear and hope in their blue depths. "I…I wrote you a note, too. But mine was for you to read if you lived. Unfortunately, I've been a bit of a coward and haven't given it to you yet but, if you want to read it, there it is." She handed him a plain piece of white paper, which he unfolded and began to read.

_Jack—_

_I can't even begin to convey exactly what I'm feeling as I write this. Mostly it's terror and helplessness—I'm terrified that I'm going to lose my best friend and my—and you at the same time. I feel completely trapped and helpless, like all I can do is sit and wait for Booth to get things done. The problem is that I really don't have that much faith in Booth—certainly not the kind of faith that Brennan does._

_I'm sure that you know how I feel, if not more so. But there's something that I haven't been telling you, that I think I need to tell you now. These past few months of intensive flirting with you…they've been some of the best days of my life. I always looked forward to coming in to work in the mornings because I knew that you'd be there with a charming smile and a flirty comment. And when we went on that date—I've never been kissed like that in my life._

_I got scared, Jack. I'll be the first one to admit it. But in getting scared, I think that I may have broken both your heart and mine, something that it inexcusable. I'm an adult. I should be able to tough things out, especially if they're things that I want more than anything in the world._

_Because I love you, Jack Hodgins. I love you._

_Angela_

Hodgins didn't say a word as he finished reading the letter. He simply reached out and stroked Angela's cheek, savoring the feeling of her silky hair and skin against his fingers. She leaned in to the touch, smiling sadly at him, then placing her hand over his.

"We're pretty stupid for not seeing this before, huh?" Hodgins whispered. Angela laughed.

"Yes, well, I hardly think that we can be blamed," she told him. "There were a lot of things in the way."

Hodgins found that he didn't need to respond. He leant forward as far as his injured legs would allow him and Angela met him halfway. Their lips met for the third time in two months and, to Hodgins, it felt like returning home.

**Oh, the sap runneth over. Glorious, glorious. Why don't you review, my little chickadees? You know you want to…come on! Show me some love!**

**Oh, and also, it's time for me to make a shameless plug for my other stories! If you like this one, why not check out the others? **


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